


Burrow Within

by EmeraldHeiress



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Hood: Lost Days, Under the Red Hood
Genre: Accidental Hidden Identity, Angst, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Don't copy to another site, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Issues, Female Jason Todd, Gen, Good Parent Talia al Ghul, Reveal, he's trying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:00:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22730614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldHeiress/pseuds/EmeraldHeiress
Summary: Hiding was easy. It was safer on the streets to be a boy. Later, when she'd returned as Red Hood, she didn't have to hide anymore... Still, Jay realized that if she had had any idea how stupid her family was, it would have saved all of them a lot of trouble and herself a load of heartbreak.
Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Talia al Ghul & Jason Todd
Comments: 76
Kudos: 772





	Burrow Within

**Author's Note:**

> Just a note: I wasn't sure what to tag this but when I finished writing I realized that this **might potentially be triggering for trans readers**. 
> 
> Please read with caution and if you need me to add an additional tag, feel free to comment or contact me on Tumblr.

Hiding was easy. 

It came as natural to her as breathing. Something she’d had to do since she was little — for a lot of reasons. Mainly protection. To hide from Willis when he got too drunk. From the police when they came knocking. From Mama, occasionally, when she got odd ideas about how to get her next fix.

What was wearing a mask but a different type of hiding? And really… Jalila only needed to mask one thing.

It was safer on the streets to be a boy. It offered security from a variety of extra dangers that the sheer misfortune of birth allotted to her. Dangers that even at nine-years-old Jalila knew well. Knew to avoid.

So when her mother died, choking on her own vomit from an overdose — drugs that Catherine had paid for with the benefit of her _own_ feminine wiles (what little she’d had left) and the rest of their grocery money — _Jalila_ disappeared. 

Jalila _hid_.

Days later, hair chopped close to her head and loose clothing draping her frame, _Jason_ trolled the Alley instead. It startled her how easy it was to get running jobs when you were a boy. She’d only ever been offered… _other_ options before. 

It made her skin crawl.

 _Jason_ mostly jacked tires and did her best to stay under the radar of the gangs. It was easy. She blended. 

There were whispers. People that knew Catherine had had a daughter. People that knew she was alone, now. People that _wanted_ her. 

Jason kept her head down. Letting them think her ears were burning from embarrassment. 

_So young_ , they cooed. 

_You’ll learn_ , they leered.

The whispers died.

It eased some of her anxiety. Most assumed she’d been taken by social services. Some by the traffickers. A few thought maybe she’d died as well; that she’d turn up in a ditch somewhere. 

“Just like her parents!” They cackled. 

She did her best to ignore them. To keep her head down. To pretend.

Then, man, she found the jackpot! The batmobile just sitting in the Alley!

Hope.

Hope to survive the winter. Hope to maybe find a safer place.

She tested her luck on the first tire. Surely the Bat would have an alarm system. A special lug nut. Some way to keep desperate thieves (like Jason) from stealing them. Nothing. It was almost too good to be true.

Cackling with glee and mentally calling the Dark Knight every flavor of idiot, Jason set herself up for winter. Lost in the thought of a full stomach for the first time in two years, she jolted when a hand came down on her shoulder.

Well, shit.

She never expected to be ensconced in Wanye-fucking-Manor.

As Bruce Wayne’s new _son…_ and Batman’s new _Robin_.

Double shit.

Jason wasn’t really sure what to do. She’d gotten used to Jason. People left her alone; let her do what she wanted… and she wanted _Robin_. 

Would he care? Would he ban her from patrol? She didn’t want to risk it.

So she kept her secret.

After a while, when feminine things began to appear, hidden among her clothing, she cried. 

_Of course_ she couldn’t hide anything from the World’s Greatest Detective. _Of course_ she couldn’t hide anything from _Alfred_. 

And Bruce...

Bruce introduced her as _Jay_. 

This is my _child_. This is my _ward_. This is my _Jay_.

She’d thought about it a lot. Being a girl to the world again. Jay had gotten so used to being a boy. She’d just about decided to do it anyway and then...

And then… 

Then, Jay died.

And then she’d come back.

The first night Jay was in her own mind, she held a fistful of hair in one hand and a dagger in another. It wasn’t even a conscious thought. 

It had been automatic — to just assume she would need to be a boy — to pretend to be male to accomplish her goals but...

Putting the dagger down _was_ a conscious decision.

For the first time in her life, her hair was long and beautiful and healthy — a riot of coal-black curls, a shock of white flowing from her widow’s peak. She didn’t _want_ to cut it. Didn’t want to go back to passing. She wanted to be _herself_. She wanted to find out who she really was.

Talia seemed to approve.

“What is your name, habibti?”

“Jalila.”

_She’d missed it._

———————————————

When Jalila had started coming by the manor — at Damian’s request — she’d been wary. The last time she’d been was before her death. 

When she’d been a Robin, still chopping her hair short and afraid to acknowledge that she was a girl. (No matter that Alfred and Bruce had to have known.) Fear leftover from her time on the streets when being female was a sentence to serving the pimps… or worse.

Things had been better among them all but were far from perfect. She wasn’t sure about being around any of them without her _helmet_ , let alone without her damned armor. 

But she’d never been able to resist her little brother’s puppy eyes. Not since she’d stupidly taught them to him in the first fucking place one afternoon in Nanda Parbat. Man, she rued that day. 

So she showed up. 

_In a dress._

Alfred had greeted her at the door with a warm smile and a soft question about what name he should call her now. Now that she was home again. Now that she was no longer hiding.

Her birth name tasted sweet on her own lips as she finally told him. 

The others greeted her just as warily.

She didn’t expect any less. Jalila had been their enemy at worst and a reluctant ally at best for over a year. Damian was working to change that. (Calling them all a plethora of names in the process from what he’d told her.)

It was amusing to see him as a peacemaker; going against everything his grandfather wanted. She wasn’t stupid enough to think she had a hand in that, given her own bloody past.

Still, despite the cautious interactions, she began to feel somewhat at home at Wayne Manor again. Practicing her Shadows dialect and Arabic with Damian. Answering oddly _narrow_ questions from Tim about the League. Occasionally even painting her nails with Stephanie. 

Other than Alfred, Cassandra was the most welcoming. The other woman always had a smile for her and a quiet word. Sometimes, when she was in from Hong Kong, she would even slip over to Jalila’s apartment — curling up on the couch as they drank tea and read Shakespeare and Keats.

It was nice... to be home. 

But sometimes everyone was a little... _odd_.

Like the night Dick had the weirdest request for her.

“Come to the manor, little wing!” Dick begged, sorrow clear in his voice. 

Red Hood paused, confused. She had just been there. Had lunch the other day with Alfred and Damian. It’s not like she stayed away. She was there at least once a week. Dick had even dropped by, said hello in that stilted way he spoke to her when she didn’t have her helmet on.

She didn’t understand why he acted so awkwardly around her without masks but chalked it up to some innate comfort that their vigilantism offered. Perhaps it was the masks themselves and the not-so-symbolic hiding of their faces.

“Uh, sure.” Her helmet’s modulator hid her confusion well.

“Really?” He shot her a surprised grin. 

“Of course.” She’d already planned to drop by after Damian’s school play. Have dinner with the family.

“Great!” He pulled her into a hug so hard it made her glad her armor bound her breasts. That would have hurt. Then, he took off for the docks. Like he was afraid she was gonna punch him… or shoot him.

She stared after him for a moment before shaking her head and moving on herself. Red Hood had a drug ring to bust. 

Jalila had hoped that maybe his demeanor would ease up around her after his request; soften a little. But when she’d come to dinner that night, his smile didn’t quite meet his eyes and he seemed… sad. 

She just didn’t understand it. 

Then, there was the way Bruce interacted with her. 

Always at a distance in uniform. Always cautious. Like stepping any closer would set off a time bomb. She wasn’t sure she could blame him but she’d thought they were past that. 

He was never far from her when she was at the manor. Sometimes she thought he was keeping an eye on her; watching her like she might snap and pounce on them at any time. Other times he was _warm_. 

Never quite the way he had been before she’d died.

He had yet to call her just _Jay_ again. Like when he’d run his hand through her short hair and ask her how her latest book had been; what she planned to read next. 

Jalila hoped that their relationship would fix itself in time. She could only try. (Gods, it hurt, the way he acted like he barely knew her.)

Later, Jalila realized that if she had had any idea how stupid her fucking family was, it would have saved all of them a lot of trouble.

———————————————

Talia breezed into Wayne Manor one sunny afternoon like a force of nature. Jalila didn’t witness this herself but heard about it secondhand many times over the next few weeks. What she did hear…

_“Bruce Thomas Wayne, if you have hurt that girl again, I will fillet you alive!”_

Jalila and Damian shared a look, both recognizing Talia’s _murder_ voice and hurried to find them. The scene they came upon would live in Jalila’s memory forever. 

Dick and Tim stood off to the side, knowing better than to interfere but ready to move. Bruce’s back was pressed against the fireplace in the den, his hands raised in supplication and the look on his face so clearly confused and apprehensive if she were any weaker willed she might have giggled. 

“Gods, T!” Jalila gaped, “Not that I doubt you have a good reason but what’s he done now?”

Pressing the blade of her saber against his throat a little more, Talia growled, “He stated that _my daughter_ was in the garden with _our son_.” 

Jay gasped, hurt, and took an involuntary step back. Damian reached out, placing a hand on her arm.

“Tell me, habibti,” Talia asked, nostrils flaring, “has your father disowned you again? Shall I gut him now?”

“Her father?” Dick whispered, confused.

“I thought you said you’d never harm me, Talia?” Bruce asked, confused, genuine concern bleeding into his words.

“For _our children_ , Beloved, _without hesitation_.” The regal woman bit back. “Answer the question.”

“I don’t —” Jay started… voice wavering, “I haven’t done _anything…_ I don’t — I didn’t think so…”

She’d followed the rules. She hadn’t killed. She was working well with Dick, with Tim, with Bruce himself. She was getting along with the family outside of the masks. There was no reason for him to-to _disown_ her.

“I am so confused,” Tim muttered.

“There’s nothing to be confused about!” Damian hissed, “If Father is denying Jay, claiming no parentage, he is disowning her! Mother is defending her!”

“Our children?” Bruce looked baffled. “I didn't know she was _ours_.”

“You called her mine, you offered me parentage. You can hardly be unaware of your own.” Talia stated coldly, blade never wavering.

“That’s… No, that’s it, isn’t it?” Damian asked, face shifting to utter incredulity. “You have no idea who she is.”

“She’s your older sister.” Dick offered tentatively, shooting Jalila a small smile. 

“Talia’s adopted daughter,” Tim added half-heartedly, eyes flicking around the room.

Bruce remained silent, his agreement apparent.

“ _Oh, my god_.” Jalila breathed, eyes wide.

 _No_. No, it couldn’t be. Not after all this time. Not after all the effort she’d put into building her relationships with the family. 

She wanted to deny it but lying to herself had never suited her.

“Mother,” Damian stated, mouth turned in a moue of disgust, “I thought you said they were intelligent.”

Talia shook her head, sheathing her sword, and turned to Jay, “Are you alright, habibti?”

Jay shook her head slowly, eyes never leaving Bruce’s face, “All this time, I thought you knew. I thought…” Her gaze swept to the other two, “I thought we were making so much progress. Becoming a family, again. But none of you even knew it was me… None of you saw me…”

How could they be so blind? How could _she_ be so blind?

All of it meant nothing. 

Did she mean nothing to them? 

She reached down and squeezed the hand of her little brother, still laying on her arm and offering support. She offered a shaky half-smile to Talia before turning on her heel. She couldn’t do this now. Maybe not ever. She left the room.

“Jay!” 

Heels clicked on stone as Talia tried to follow. Jalila heard Damian’s voice soon after, too low to make out. She moved a little quicker as she reached the hall. She needed _out_. She needed her own space; her own little apartment.

Bruce’s shout of surprise echoed through the halls and tears pricked at the back of her eyes. 

“Miss Jalila?” Alfred called gently, stepping from the kitchen, “What’s happened?”

Shaking her head, she bolted past him and out the front door. She didn’t trust herself to speak. 

All this time… and they didn’t even know it was her.

———————————————

It was two weeks before Red Hood allowed herself to be found, let alone Jalila. Even then, if anyone tried to approach — anyone other than Robin — she would disappear again.

She knew that the family was frustrated. That they wanted to apologize… wanted to fix it and make things better. They couldn’t if she wouldn’t talk to them. She wasn’t _ready_ to talk to them. She wasn’t ready for them to _fix it_. 

They didn’t understand — _couldn’t_ understand — how devastating it was to find out that they had never even _seen_ her.

All this time, all the work she had put in to rebuild those relationships between them had been for nothing. 

Shattered like crystal.

When Batman landed on the parapet Red Hood almost left again. But she was so _tired_. Tired of running. Tired of being the odd one out. Tired of it all.

She stayed. 

“Jay.”

“What do you want?” Even through the synthesizer, her voice was harsh and her words sharp.

He flinched.

That caught her attention. Batman — Bruce Wayne — did not flinch. 

“Jay, _please_.” He reached up and removed the cowl right there on the rooftop.

“Fuck, B, what are you _doing?_ ” Red Hood darted forward and drug the man away from the edge of the roof, where cameras and people and _rogues_ couldn’t see him.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? What’s your first fucking rule?” She spit at him, aghast.

“As all of you have told me many times over the years, sometimes rules should be broken.” 

She snorted unwillingly. _Dick would be thrilled._

He looked at her, studying the helmet with the same intensity he had when she had first come back. When he’d tried to find the child he’d lost under all the pain. 

“I didn’t want this to be a Batman and Red Hood conversation. It needs to be a Bruce conversation.”

“And _Jason?_ ” She bit out caustically.

He shifted awkwardly. God, Bruce alone without any masks — be it Batman, or the CEO or god forbid _Brucie_ — was such a dork.

“And _Jay_. Whether that’s Jalila or Red Hood.”

Christ, he was serious. Bruce-fucking-Wayne wanted to talk. Someone call Vicky Vale. The world must be ending.

She didn’t _want_ to talk, she… 

Jalila sighed. Fine. 

Reaching up, she unlatched her helmet and tugged it off, irritably brushing a loose curl out of her face. When she looked up, Bruce’s most searching gaze was directed solely at her. Under its intensity, she automatically took a step back.

Bruce dropped the look and she recovered.

“Disappointed?” She sniped, trying to hide real vulnerability. 

What if he had preferred her as _Jason?_

What if he had never seen her as Jalila because he never _wanted_ to?

What if —

“ _Never_.” 

His tone was loaded with such sincerity she nearly staggered. Jalila looked away.

“Only wondering how I could miss something so obvious for so long.”

She didn’t have anything to say to that. She just shook her head.

“Jay, I’m sorry.” He started. 

She didn’t want to hear his apologies. Not really. She wasn’t sure they were worth anything. 

“I know that it’s a paltry thing to say and I know it doesn’t make up for any of it but I am. You’re my child — my _daughter_ — and I know that I don’t say it enough but I love you.”

“B—” Jalila was not prepared for this. This was not the conversation she expected to have. Not now. Not _ever_ , if she was being honest. What?

He shook his head. “No, you deserve to hear it. You need to hear it. And I need to say it.” 

She felt other people’s fingers all over this. Talia’s for certain. Even Alfred’s.

“You’ve changed so much from that scruffy little thief that tried to steal my tires—”

“I _did_ steal your tires, old man.” She said, weakly, trying to stave off this… whatever this was.

Bruce’s lips quirked, “ _tried_ to steal my tires… A part of me will always see you as that child. As my child.”

He was being so careful not to say it, she wanted to roll her eyes.

“You can say it.” She huffed. “I cultivated that for years, Bruce. If you had thought I was anything other than a boy, at first, I’d have been offended.”

A nod. 

“A part of me will always see you as my little boy. As my son. And that’s my fault for taking what I saw at face value — for not looking further — when Alfred saw right through the bluster and into the heart of things. When I knew how you grew up and how you were raised and how clever you are. We’ve had our fights...”

She scoffed. That was one way to put it. He ignored her.

“But I am proud of the person you’ve become, Jalila.” 

Her eyes snapped to him. That was the first time he’d said her full name since dropping onto the roof. Since learning the truth.

“I’m proud of the woman you’ve become. I’m proud to call you my daughter.” He pulled a box out and held it in his hands. Black velvet. “As the eldest daughter of the Wayne line, these belong to you.”

A sardonic look flashed across his face, “I realize I am an... absolutely enormous moron... thinking I was saving these for your future wife… and I hope that eventually you can forgive me my idiocy.”

“Bruce…” Jalila’s teal eyes were glued to the box. He _wouldn’t_. They _weren’t_. “What is that?”

And there they were. Perfect on their bed of silk. A new diamond clasp glinting in the low light; a flawless double strand.

Martha’s pearls.

Her throat tightened and her eyes began to sting.

“ _Why?_ ” She choked out. 

Of all the gestures he could have made… This was like being hit with an atom bomb. Every one of them knew what those pearls meant. 

“They’re yours, Jay.” Bruce told her, nothing but truth in his voice. “They were yours the day I brought you home, I just didn’t know it yet.”

The maelstrom of emotions in her chest warred for dominance but nothing won. He couldn’t do this to her, goddamnit. He couldn’t make a grand — perfect fucking — gesture and just — 

"Oh, fuck. Bruce, you can't fucking _do this_ to me.” She knew her voice was faint and could feel the dampness on her cheeks. “I have a _right_ to be pissed at you!"

"You do.” He nodded and reached out; a warm hand carefully brushing away her tears. “I'm not trying to buy your forgiveness, Jalila. I'm only giving you what's yours by right."

" _Dad!_ "

She broke, throwing her arms around the startled vigilante. He held her as she cried; all the hurt and frustration and rage boiled over and out. Lanced with one heartfelt conversation on a roof in downtown Gotham.

God, their life was fucked, wasn’t it?

She knew things wouldn’t be perfect. But as her father gently stroked her hair and told her things were gonna be alright she found herself believing. 

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](https://primeemeraldheiress.tumblr.com/)  
> Check out my [Blurb Masterlist](https://primeemeraldheiress.tumblr.com/post/188844689355/emerald-blurb-masterlist) on Tumblr for writing that doesn’t make it to AO3!
> 
> A lovely thanks to [TheFightingBull](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFightingBull/pseuds/TheFightingBull) ([Her Tumblr](https://thefightingbull.tumblr.com/)) for beta'ing!


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